


Up on Mount Olympus

by lynarcher



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynarcher/pseuds/lynarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was said they were like night and day. But now they have proof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up on Mount Olympus

**Author's Note:**

> A short one shot of an idea floating around my head. The Greek Gods exist and it's like a business.

John drummed his fingers against his desk as he stared out the window of the large office building he worked in. He let out a breath and got up. He walked over to the window. He closed his eyes when he felt the sun his against him. He always felt better when the sun was out. It was the source of his power, all that he was.

He was Apollo, the Sun God.

There was no Mount Olympus here. The Gods walked among men. They ran businesses and held meetings. And the Gods had been turned into CEOs. It was easier to pass the mantle from person to person when they tired of it. It was funny to think of it as a mantle. The transfer of power hurt enough. He had heard stories of men dying during the transfer. The power, the true reason a God was a God, was the true judge of character if someone was right for the mantle.

He stepped back from the window and walked back over to his desk. The previous Apollo had seen him nearly sacrifice himself for a fellow soldier, seen the way he led his men. As his predecessor had said, he shone as bright as the sun itself. He was a conductor of light. That had been ten years ago. And John couldn't help but feel that something was missing.

He sat down and stared as his computer screens. Numbers and charts, his email staring at him tauntingly.

\---

Sherlock Holmes was bored. He was thirty-eight and he felt like something was missing. There was this hole in his chest and he wanted it explained. He wanted to know why he felt like this. He'd heard stories and rumors of the Gods among men. Walking around and being normal. Maybe one of them could explain it to him.

\---

"Soulmates." The dark haired woman said with a cat like grin. She was lounging on a very expensive chair, her legs tucked under her.

Sherlock scoffed. Graham, George, something, had suggested that he see Aphrodite. She was the Goddess of Love after all. "Soulmates do not exist."

"Oh they do Mr. Holmes." She shifted, sitting up a bit, "And there's a clock for when everyone is supposed to meet theirs." She waved her hand and an old fashioned clock appeared near here. It had William Sherlock Scott Holmes scrolled at the top. And the hands were spinning around far too fast, and backwards

For a moment all Sherlock could do was stare. He couldn't form words to dispute this. It was right in front of him.

"Something, or someone, caused you to miss meeting your Soulmate. That is what is causing the ache in your chest. They might not even realize what it is on theit end." She explained to him.

"Can they be dead?" Sherlock had to ask.

"No. The clocks, yours and theirs, would have stopped."

"Do you know where they are?"

"Top floor of the Shard."

Sherlock looked at her. "That's the office building they say Apollo works out of." The notion that Gods treated their powers as a business was interesting, and brilliant.

Aphrodite merely smiled at him. "Your payment is a kiss Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock looked at her and arched an eyebrow. "A single kiss?"

She nodded, that cat like grin still on her face. Most men couldn't leave with just a single kiss, some women too. But she'd have him on his hands and knees, exploring his beautiful body. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was Hades. With his dark hair and pale skin. Perhaps she'd put him in as a candidate. Rumor had it he was retiring.

\---

Sherlock hadn't been able to get to the Shard for far too long. Aphrodite had been rather convincing to let her have her way with him. Though there were no complaints from him at all. And then...

He stared at the gloves on his hands for a moment. He'd become Hades. It just seemed to fit. The power has hurt, but it felt right under his skin. Negotiating with people, for their souls and years left. Making the passings easier and helping the recently died to the River Styx. To the Ferryman.

Shortly after he'd become Hades, the Fates had decided to retire. So he went to the best person. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. He'd taken to it better than the old Fates. Perhaps they had known.

But now he was standing in front of Apollo's office. He knocked on the door.

It opened and there was a man. He was so ordinary, so plain. How could this be Apollo. But... There was something about him. Something more.

"Apollo?"

"You must be the new Hades. Please, come in." He stepped to the side to allow him in.

Sherlock stepped into the room and finally looked at the man. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Apollo turned and looked at him. "Afghanistan. How?"

Sherlock grinned at him. "Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. Trained at Bart’s, so army doctor obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You’d been abroad, but not sunbathing. You have an old limp that was really bad when you walk but you don’t ask for a chair, or offered for us to sit, so was at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan; Afghanistan or Iraq. You had a psychosomatic limp, of course you had a therapist." Sherlock grinned a bit as he finished.

Apollo stared and then crossed over to him. He grasped the man's face and kissed him.


End file.
